by Unknown
His watch was ruined, too. Gooch was a little larger in the waist than Josh and he had to borrow a belt to hold the pants up.
Josh pulled on a Navy blue windbreaker with the USS America’s name and insignia over the left breast and in big letters on the back. The carrier was still rolling on the waves when Gooch led him back out on the deck. The cold wind blew through Josh’s wet hair and the last drops of the torrential rain smacked on his cheeks.
The activity on the deck had not ceased. Clumps of men were working everywhere, many of them clustered around the planes.
Gooch took Josh to one of the Sea King helicopters, which was waiting for him.
“Good luck,” Gooch shouted over the noise of the helicopter’s engine.
He held out his hand. Josh shook it.
“Thanks.”
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He climbed aboard and was given a helmet. The chopper lifted off while he was figuring out how to put it on. He was alone in the cramped, dark cabin. The chopper tilted forward about fifteen degrees and Josh could see through the forward opening into the cockpit and out the front windshield, but the sea and sky before them were pitch black. Josh held on and tried to enjoy the ride. The thought of what might be waiting at the end made him nervous.
It was an hour before the helicopter slowed. The loud, steady drone let him doze, and the sudden slowing snapped him out of a shallow sleep.
“We’ve reached your destination,” the pilot said.
Josh leaned through the forward cabin opening to the cockpit and peered into the darkness beyond the curved windshield.
Below, about half a mile away, were the glowing lights of a small ship.
“The Monticello?” Josh asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do they know we’re here?”
“They’d better. I’m not allowed to contact them by radio.” Josh nodded. He should have expected that. He was aware how deep they were in Russian waters. An American military vehicle operating so close to their shores was practically an international incident. Probably not enough to start a shooting war, of course, but definitely enough to get every American diplomat and ambassador from the President down scrambling to deny every allegation Moscow could think up.
The Monticello grew rapidly. In moments they were hovering over it and the copilot helped Josh strap into the harness once more. Leaning out the open side door, Josh saw men below on the deck of the Monticello waiting to receive him. The stern of the Monticello was crowded with small and heavy equipment, including some barrels, something that was covered with a tarp and a large, tall crane built into the stern. This did not leave much room for Josh to come down.
The copilot let out the winch and Josh stepped out into space.
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He dangled from the belly of the chopper above the Monticello like a spider on a thin strand of web. He had the sensation of falling in a black void of nothingness. The only sound was the chop of the helicopter rotors above and the only visual clues were the few lights on the deck of the ship below. If he was going to panic, right there would have been a good place. He tried to remember how important this mission was supposed to be. If he was going through this much trouble just to hold someone’s hand out of the country, he was going to be very upset.
Hands grabbed for his ankles as he was lowered to the ship.
His feet landed on the deck and he shed the harness. The Sea King turned away and disappeared into the black night, the chop of its blades fading like a soft heartbeat.
“Welcome aboard,” said a voice to Josh’s right.
He turned to look into the face, but in the darkness he could see nothing.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Come with me, if you would, please. You are expected on the bridge.”
The man moved off and Josh followed his outline, leaving two or three other men behind. They climbed a flight of steel steps to the back of the bridge, which was enclosed with glass. The man leading held open the door and Josh saw his face. He was a short, smiling, older man with a cheerful, round face and graying hair and moustache. Josh smiled back and went in.
There were three others on the bridge. They all looked up when Josh entered. Josh scanned their faces. Two he didn’t recognize. One he did.
“Josh, so glad you could make it.”
Ed Persich reached over a chart table to shake Josh’s hand.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Josh said.
Ed looked around, his arms extended.
“This is my baby.”
“You own this ship?”
“Of course not, the Company does. But it’s my project.” The short, cheerful man appeared at Josh’s side again, holding 82
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a mug of coffee.
“Rough day?” he said, handing the mug to Josh.
“You could say that.”
Ed came around the chart table and put his hand on Josh’s shoulder.
“What’s with the wet hair? You been swimming?” Josh chuckled and sipped the coffee. It warmed him all the way down.
“I’ll tell you about it later. You can buy me a pizza.” Ed laughed. Josh felt more at ease here. He had left the crashing vehicles, the rough seas and the noisy helicopter rides behind and finally there was some peace and quiet and hot coffee.
“Let me introduce you around. They all know who you are.
You’ve met Jurgen.” The short, cheerful old man shook Josh’s hand. “This is Travis, and this is Stephanie.” They each nodded to Josh and went back to their duties.
Travis, a young guy with short blonde hair, was leaning over a radar scope. Stephanie, a young woman with curly dark hair, was busy steering the ship.
“Come over here and I’ll show you what Travis is working on.”
Ed went to the radar scope and Travis stepped aside. The scope was a large, circular screen covered with a black plastic cone that came up to an opening shaped like the eyepieces of a pair of goggles. Josh leaned over it. On the screen, a narrow green stripe radiated outward from the center point to the outer edge and swept around the scope. Toward the top of the screen was a green dot that appeared when the green stripe passed over it. According to the scale measured on the scope, the dot was approximately five miles away.
At about the three o’clock position on the scope was a larger dot about twice as far away.
“Who the hell is that?” Josh said.
“Your Russian friends,” Ed said, grinning. “The small one is Ron Finn’s boat, of course, at least it’s the boat he’s currently borrowing. He’s either out of gas or something’s broken down Change of Heart
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because he hasn’t moved in the last few hours.” He leaned against the side of the plastic hood. “The other one we believe to be a Russian ship.”
“Freighter?” Josh said.
Ed shook his head.
“Warship. If it was a freighter it wouldn’t have been shadow-ing us for the last few hours. Travis?” Travis turned to Josh.
“Most likely it’s a fast attack ship. They build ’em small and quick and armed to the teeth. Mostly they patrol the borders and shores. Some of them were even used by the KGB, when there was a KGB.”
“What do you think this one’s doing here?” Travis’ mouth frowned as he considered the question.
“I think they’re out here for the same reason we are. The girl.”
“Do you think they’ll attack?” Josh asked.
Ed looked at the others and they all laughed.
“I think that’s highly unlikely. The Cold War’s over,” he said.
“Of course, their radar is much stronger than ours. Undoubtedly, they saw the helicopter that dropped you off. That had to peak their interest.”
Josh nodded. “Have they been on the radio?” Ed shook his head. “Not a peep.”
“Do we know for sure Ron has the girl with him?”
“According to his las
t message, she was with him when he sailed out of Chumikan. That was nine hours ago.”
“How far are we from the coast?”
Josh leaned over the radar and watched the green stripe sweep over the two dots. They both appeared frozen in position.
“About sixty miles.”
“So all we have to do is pick up Ron and the girl, keep away from the Russians, and we’re home free.”
“Something like that.” Ed picked up a mug of coffee and took a long drink. “We know of at least two of our men who were killed just to get that girl and Finn to Chumikan. That attack craft 84
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might not be willing to let her get away too easily.” Josh was confused.
“They’ve had plenty of time to do something by now. What are they waiting for?”
Ed shrugged.
“Who knows. Maybe they’re waiting for you.”
“Well, they saw the chopper. They know I’m here. Let’s get this show started.”
“Ok,” Ed said, rubbing his hands together. “Stephanie, move us toward that sailboat, bear zero degrees north.”
“Got it,” Stephanie said.
She eased the throttle forward and Josh felt the ship surge beneath his feet.
He leaned close to Ed.
“So, why am I here? You guys in the Company should be able to take care of this all by yourselves.”
“Ah. Come with me and I’ll explain.” Ed went down a short flight of steps at the side of the bridge to the cabin below. Josh went down with him and Ed closed the door.
“I spoke with Admiral Filmore at length while you were in the air,” he began. “It’s not very complicated, really. Once we have the girl in custody, we are to debrief her, specifically with the intention of learning what she knows about the whereabouts of a certain Dr. Otto Jones, who is personally responsible for the development of the latest technology in plastic explosives. Unfortunately, Dr. Jones took this personal knowledge he has and split. Apparently he got a better deal from the guys on the other side.”
“The Russians?”
“Not just the Russians. More accurately the Communists, the hardliners, the Nationalists who want to bring back the Supreme Soviet, although I’m sure the Russian Republic wouldn’t mind having his talents. I’m sure you know all of this makes the Company look very bad.”
“And you want me to pull your asses out of the fire.” Change of Heart
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Ed chuckled.
“You have to get her. We didn’t come out here for that. This is out of our hands. If you get caught we’ll deny everything.”
“How consistent of you.”
“Anyway, this girl knows key pieces of information we’re missing.” Ed sat down at a small desk. “Once we get this information, you are to assemble a small team, create a plan, then act upon that plan. Your job is to retrieve this technology. Steal it back, if you will, no matter what the cost. We believe we have only six days before this faction of the Communist Party is able to make use of this technology.”
“What about the girl?”
“No problem. When you’re done with her, I take her back home to Mom and apple pie.”
Josh sighed. So this was what he came all this way for. Nothing was ever easy.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened. It was Travis.
“The attack ship’s closing on us,” he said.
“Ok. I expected that,” Ed said. “Try to keep us between them and Finn’s boat. We’ll be up in a second.” Travis nodded and left.
Ed looked at Josh.
“Walt’s tried to anticipate what you’ll need. He’s got your team and some equipment assembled in a safe house. He knows the guys you usually use. That’s it.” Josh nodded. “It’s enough.”
“I’m glad I always get the easy end. I’d hate to have your job all the time. Do they pay you well for this stuff?”
“Same as you get. Same pension, same 401K plan. More time off, though.”
“My wife would kill me if I put myself in harm’s way like you do. It’s a good thing you don’t have a family.”
“Yeah, I try to tell myself the same thing.” Ed got up and stood next to Josh.
“You know, you look good in a uniform. You should have 86
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stayed in the Navy.”
“I feel like I never left.”
“How long have you been a mechanic for Naval Intelligence?”
“About five years now.”
“You should come over to our side.” He slapped his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “The Company needs guys like you.”
“Don’t you have enough?”
Ed laughed and they went up to the bridge to monitor their progress. Stephanie was able to keep the Russian attack ship off their starboard beam and approach the sailboat on the port side.
They were about two miles north of the sailboat, with the attack ship closing from about six or seven miles farther north.
Ed gave orders to Jurgen, who, with the help of two other crewmen whose faces Josh could not see, uncovered a Zodiac, a small boat with pontoon-style inflatable rubber tubes along the sides, on the rear portion of the ship. Josh watched. They hooked the Zodiac to the crane and stowed some equipment inside. Then Jurgen came up the stairs to the bridge.
“The Zodiac is ready,” he reported.
“Good. Wait for my order,” Ed said.
Jurgen nodded and went back down the stairs. Ed turned to Josh.
“The Russians will probably pick up the outboard motor on their radar. They might decide to come after you. If they do, we won’t be much help.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
Josh went down the stairs to the stern. The noise of the ship’s engines was much louder back there, combined with the low rumbling of the crane’s motor. The wind was cold and he pulled the collar of the windbreaker up over his ears. He walked to the short, stout figure he recognized as Jurgen.
“Will you be joining us, Mr. McGowan?” Jurgen asked.
“I think I might be able to help. I know Ron Finn. He might be happy to see me.”
“That he might. If he’s been through that storm and who Change of Heart
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knows what else, he’ll probably be happy to see anyone.” Jurgen handed him an orange lifevest and Josh strapped it on.
The Monticello slowed. Josh balanced himself against the railing. The back door to the bridge opened and Ed stuck his head out.
“Take off now, guys. It’s about a mile and a half directly south.
That attack ship is closing fast, so don’t waste time.”
“Take it up,” Jurgen shouted.
The engine of the crane roared and the Zodiac was snatched off its bed. It swung over the stern and dropped to the water.
Jurgen and the other men climbed down the ladder to the diving platform. Josh got on the ladder and went down after them.
The diving platform was about eight feet below the top of the gunwale and stuck out three or four feet from the back of the ship. The Zodiac bobbed at the edge of it. The platform dipped under the water and rose back out as the ship rode the gentle waves. Josh’s borrowed shoes were soaked the second he stepped on the platform.
One man was already on the boat. Jurgen helped Josh get on, telling him to be careful not to step on anything, then got on last, operating the outboard motor mounted to the rear. The last man pushed them off and coiled the rope. Jurgen gunned the outboard motor and they pulled away from the Monticello with the bow of the Zodiac out of the water. The shape of the Monticello’s hull disappeared in the darkness until all Josh could see was the light from the bridge glowing high over the water.
The Zodiac bounced and Josh was splashed with water. He turned to the back. Jurgen held a small flashlight between his teeth to shine on a compass he wore on his wrist, while he held the throttle of the motor in his other hand.
Eventually, the lights of the Monticello were nothing more than twinkling dot
s a long way behind. Jurgen slowed the Zodiac and told the other man to get the spotlight, a hand held device with a cable that ran to a battery, and when he turned it on it was like he opened a box containing a piece of the sun. A pure white 88
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beam pierced the darkness like a huge laser that shot into space for miles. It shined on nothing but the swelling surface of the inky black water.
“Move it slowly,” Jurgen ordered.
The man swung the searchlight in an arc like his arm was on a pivot. The end of the beam probed far ahead, but Josh was unable to make out anything. They searched for several minutes, rising and falling on the water as if they were on a slow rollercoaster in the darkness.
The beam passed over something and the man froze on it. As they got closer, Josh saw it was the hull of a sailboat.
“That’s it,” Jurgen said, and gunned the motor again.
They came up on it quickly. In the circle of light it looked like a ghost ship. It was a wooden hull painted white with finished wood trim, maybe thirty feet long. The limp sails laid over the deck, flapping in the wind. The hull was low in the water and listed a few degrees to port, obviously sinking. As they came around to the starboard side, they saw large caliber bullet holes punched through the wooden slats.
“Bring us up close,” Josh said.
He stepped over the equipment in the bottom of the Zodiac and moved to the bow. Jurgen maneuvered alongside the sailboat.
Josh grabbed the wooden rail on the gunwale and lifted himself aboard. He stumbled over the cushions on the seat and fell to the deck. The guy in the Zodiac held a flashlight over the gunwale, shining it down into the sailboat.
Josh was looking at a pair of deck shoes. He looked up. In the flickering light he saw Ron Finn’s prone form laying back in the seat. His left hand still held the rudder wheel, but his blank eyes stared up at the dark sky. In the center of his chest was a big, red hole. Josh shivered. That Russian warship might be more trouble than they thought.
Josh tore his eyes away and took the flashlight from the guy in the Zodiac.
“I’m gonna see what I can find. Don’t go too far,” he said.